Ruth Remembers
Private family narrative derived from a completed family survey. Cleaned for readability while preserving Ruth’s voice and meaning.
Ruth loved spending time with her Grandma and Grandpa DeRosa. Some of her favorite memories were trips with them to Williamsburg, Wisconsin, where they visited Grandma Mae’s sister, Great Aunt Karen. Karen was a performer—an actress and singer—which was considered quite wild for her time.
When they visited, Great Aunt Karen would dress everyone up in costumes and makeup, and they would put on shows for anyone around. They sang, danced, told jokes, and shared stories. One song they often performed was “On the Good Ship Lollipop.” One favorite story was “I’ve Got a Pain in My Sourdough.” Even more than sixty years later, Ruth could still remember much of it. It was, she said, a really good time.
For much of her childhood, Ruth was an only child. Her sister wasn’t born until she was ten and a half, and three years later her cousin Jack was born. Because of this, she was raised largely on her own and spent a great deal of time playing pretend.
She loved paper dolls and spent hours dressing and undressing them, inventing plays and stories. She often played on the stairs so the dolls could stand upright. There was no television in her home. Instead, the radio filled the evenings. Children’s programs aired between five and seven, and “Jack Armstrong, the All American Boy” and “Little Orphan Annie” were favorites.
Her favorite outdoor activity was jumping rope with friends. They jumped and sang until someone missed, then that person became a rope turner. Rhymes included “Buster Brown, touch the ground,” “Turn around,” “Touch your shoe,” and “Better scadoo.”
When Ruth was seven and a half, she traveled with her mother and father to New York City, where they stayed for eight weeks while her parents were on business. They stayed at the St. George Hotel, and she remembered the trip vividly.
During the drive—long before interstates and air-conditioned cars—she carried a yellow-tan teddy bear that she later realized looked a lot like Winnie the Pooh. The trip took three or four days, with overnight stays at tourist homes. At one point, she dropped her bear out the car window. Her father pulled over and walked back along the road to retrieve it. They simply could not continue without him.
After her sister was born three years later, Ruth lost track of the bear. She couldn’t remember his name.
Growing up, Ruth felt the world was safer. Although she lived in Chicago and doors were locked, children could walk to stores and go about their business without constant fear. She believed that rapid and constant news coverage in later years changed society in ways that were not always good.
World War II left a strong impression on her childhood—rationing, shortages, fear, and uncertainty were part of everyday life.
Schooling took place in a single building for grades one through eight, with multiple classes per grade.
Summer evenings were social. Neighbors sat on front steps and talked while friends stopped by. Eventually someone would walk to the drugstore for ice cream. Sometimes there was sauce, sometimes root beer soda. They would have sundaes or Black Cows—treats Ruth remembered fondly.
Ruth was not paid for chores at home. Her first paying job came in 1944, when she worked as a salesgirl in a five-and-ten-cent store, earning seventeen cents an hour.
Fashion during her youth reflected the times. Girls wore pleated skirts, pullover sweaters, bobby socks, and saddle shoes—just like in the World War II movies. Hairstyles included pompadours and long hair turned up at the ends for girls, and pompadours for boys.
Looking back at age seventy-one, Ruth said she would return to her youth in a minute and live it the same way.
She felt deeply blessed. Being an only child for so long made her the darling of four grandparents, two uncles, and doting parents. Even during the 1929 Depression, when her father was out of work, her grandparents made sure she had everything she needed. She knew she was loved and hoped her children and grandchildren would feel that same sense of security.
Expressions she remembered from her youth included “Kiszon was here,” “Super,” “Nifty,” “Yikes,” “Jippers,” and “Creeping.”
She collected pennies and stamps but never cared much for either.
The rules she remembered were simple: cross the street carefully, stay where you’re told, and taste all foods.
When asked about discipline, she simply wrote, “Spanked?”
Her final reflection on fairness was measured and thoughtful: things were fair for some, not all—better than for many, worse than for others. Government, she felt, surely tried.